The dharmas that leap out of meditative absorption (samādhi) are all recited by the manas (2024-09-24)

Ven. Shi Ruyuan: I remember that during the first two years at my daughter's home, I couldn't do anything well. I was afraid of going out to do things, afraid of making mistakes, and afraid of contact with people. Generally I didn't go out; whenever something came up, I had to force myself to go out and handle it. Sometimes when I had certain feelings in body and mind, I didn't take them to heart, because I felt that all states were false and unreal. Several times I clearly felt as if my body were not my own—empty and illusory. No matter what I did, my mind just couldn't react, and I kept making mistakes in whatever I did.

Once my daughter asked me to hold the baby. At that time I couldn't feel the existence of my body at home. When I tried to muster my spirit to do things, the more afraid I was of making mistakes, the more mistakes I made. When I was putting the child onto the small bed, I suddenly froze and stared blankly, unable to feel my body or direction. It just so happened that my son-in-law saw the baby crawling on the bed alone, and he rushed over, picked the child up, and said that this could have caused an accident. Only then did I come back to myself—in a moment of carelessness my mind had gone blank, and I had lost the sensation of my body. Now for a long time I haven't been studying the teachings; I have just been contemplating the familiar contemplation of the white bones and impurity that appears in my mind. Even when I am not thinking about these teachings, they linger and cannot be dispelled—just like the sound of the Buddha's name in my mind, which plays whether I want it to or not; the presentation of the teachings is the same way.

For example, a few days ago, someone told me about some troubling matters back in my hometown. I gave no reply and didn't take it to heart. Sometimes I would even be pondering the Buddha's teachings in my dreams, and then I would wake up. Upon waking, my mouth kept murmuring "know the illusion, depart from the illusion." After I became fully awake, I found it a bit strange—how did this phrase pop out? Before I had time to think about what was going on, three more words jumped out: "the eight consciousnesses." I didn't understand what that meant either. I could understand "know the illusion, depart from the illusion" a little, but "the eight consciousnesses" stumped me. The more I tried to let it go and pay no attention, the more it lingered and would not leave. Because the wisdom of my manas's direct perception is insufficient, I cannot express it.

Assessment: Within the state of meditative concentration (samādhi), whatever dharma pops up in the mind is a thought or ideation of the manas. If the Buddha's teachings pop up, it shows that the manas is investigating these dharmas—perhaps it has understood them, perhaps not. If it has not understood, it must pass them on to the solitary consciousness (mano-vijñāna-eka-citta), letting the solitary consciousness and the manas investigate them on their own. Once the investigation is understood, both the mind consciousness and the manas are clear about that dharma. This is also the process and principle of realizing any dharma.

Expressing things through language and words is the function of the mind consciousness, not the wisdom of the manas's direct perception. If the mind consciousness has not studied well, if knowledge is insufficient and the foundation in language and writing is poor, then expression will be unclear and one cannot speak understandably. One needs the mind consciousness to keep learning the relevant knowledge; only after mastering this knowledge can the foundation in language and writing become complete, so that expression flows smoothly and everyone can understand by listening and reading. These are the qualities and skills that a great bodhisattva ought to possess—indispensable for one's own survival and for delivering sentient beings.